


The Key

by LuxaLucifer



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, mentions events from the comics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxaLucifer/pseuds/LuxaLucifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We locked him up in Fort Drakon and threw away the key." Maric, returned to Ferelden by his son, visits Loghain in prison</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Key

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fic I wrote in an AU where Maric survives the events of the comics and returns to Ferelden to find Loghain locked in Fort Drakon. I can't really give it the length it deserves, but here it is.

“We locked him up in Fort Drakon and threw away the key.”

The way his son told him this, it was almost like he wanted approval. Behind that beard and the stern expression, Alistair acted like a little boy wanting his father’s love. Maric supposed he was, and he couldn’t blame him. Maric hadn’t been there for him.

But Maric wasn’t going to approve of what Alistair had done to Loghain.

“Maker, boy, you couldn’t have killed him?” he said. “What did he do that you’d condemn him to such a life?”

Alistair had been surprised by this, but eventually he managed a reply. Anora had wanted him alive, and Alistair wanted the opposite, so they’d compromised. Loghain had to be punished for his sins, his son maintained.

His sins.

He’d caused Cailan’s death. He’d framed the Grey Wardens for his murder. He’d had an Arl poisoned. He’d- Maric had had to look away- sold Ferelden citizens into slavery. By all rights, Alistair was right. He deserved to be punished.

Maric still visited Loghain the moment he was able, when his bones would support him again. 

The nation was still in shock that Maric the Savior had returned, and people greeted him with reverence despite his emaciated appearance. He needed a cane as he followed the guard into the depths of Fort Drakon, hand gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.

He’d been to Fort Drakon before, of course. He’d never been this deep. He’d never needed to visit a prisoner with a life sentence before.

It was dark, the guard’s lantern on of the few points of light. Half the wall lamps were unlit or broken. The stones were filthy, and some of the cells Maric glanced into had bodies in them.

The guard rapped his gloved fist on the bars of a cell. “Mac Tir,” he barked. “You have a visitor.”

“Tell Anora I don’t want to see her,” came the immediate reply. It took several seconds for Maric to realize that he was hearing Loghain speak. The voice was completely unfamiliar, a tired old man, lacking any of the fire Maric remembered him having.

“It’s not your daughter,” said the guard, amusement in his voice.

Maric stepped forward. The cell was no less filthy than the others, and the man who stood to greet him was shadowed until he was right in behind the bars.

Maric kept his face impassive even as his heart broke. Was the thin, ragged man in front of him really Loghain Mac Tir? He couldn’t see it, not under the graying beard, the bony fingers, the stained, ruined clothing. The man stared at Maric with intense blue eyes, and he knew. It was him.

“It’s been some time,” he said uncomfortably, not sure where to look. “I asked where you were and they said you’d betrayed Ferelden. Either way, I wanted to see you.”

Loghain’s eyes widened with every word from Maric’s mouth. By the time he was done speaking, tears were streaking down his cheeks, leaving tracks on his grimy skin.

“Leave us,” said Maric to the guard.

“But-” said the guard, who had been watching Loghain cry with interest.

“Leave us,” he repeated firmly.

The guard left, and Maric turned back to Loghain, who was staring at him with shock written in every line on his face. They hadn’t told him. They hadn’t told him Maric was still alive.

“I searched for you,” said Loghain, fingers clutching the bars. “I searched for years, I would have kept looking, but they made me come back, if I had known you were out there I would have kept going forever, you have to believe me.”

The desperation bled from his voice. Maric swallowed hard.

“I believe you,” he said. “Maker, Loghain, you look terrible.”

Loghain laughed quietly, the sound harsh against Maric’s ears. “Why have you come here?”

“Alistair told me everything,” he replied. “About what you did. How you went from a legend to a pariah.”

“I don’t care how anyone sees me,” said Loghain, so intensely Maric almost believed him.

“How long have you been in here?”

“What year is it?” said Loghain, still clutching the bars.

Maric told him. Loghain told him he’d been in that cell for nearly a decade. Eight years spent rotting in prison. Maric knew what he’d done. Maric couldn’t be upset with Alistair for throwing him in there. He understood. Even now he missed Cailan and a part of him burned with anger and grief.

But he had lost too much to lose Loghain as well.

He called the guard back. “Unlock him,” he ordered.

Loghain and the guard gave him the same of shock.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack today,” said Loghain tiredly, almost smiling. Maric could see the man he’d known- the man he’d loved- underneath all the misery.

“Unlock him?” said the guard, bewildered. “I can’t, Y-Your Majesty.”

“If you’re going to call me that, you can do as I say,” said Maric. “What’s the point of being royalty if no one listens?”

“He literally can’t,” drawled Loghain, wiping the tears from his face with a dirty palm. “There’s no key to my cell.”

Alistair had meant thrown away the key literally, then.

“How do you…?” asked Maric, forgetting himself.

“You don’t want to know.”

“You look like a strong lad,” said Maric, very conscious of the cane he had to use. “Break the door.”

Loghain and the guard both looked incredulous.

“You don’t have to do this,” said Loghain. “I’m in here for a reason. By all rights, I deserve to be here. You should hate me.”

“Open the door,” said Maric.

In the end it took several guards to break the door. When it finally came off its hinges, Loghain stumbled out with his hand shielding his eyes from the light. Apparently he hadn’t seen so many lanterns at once in a long time.

In better light, Maric could see that he was thinner than he was. His skin was pale as parchment and his hair almost entirely gray. He looked decades older than when he’d last see him, standing on a pier as Maric waved from a ship. He was decades older.

Loghain could barely walk to the entrance of the Fort. Eight years in that cell with hardly enough leg room to walk ten paces. He was leaning on Maric by the end, and Maric was leaning on the staff. They waited for the carriage to bring them back to the palace together, Loghain’s eyes squeezed shut from the pain.

“Look at us,” said Maric. “Where did we go wrong?”

Loghain didn’t answer him. Maybe he didn’t even know where to begin.

xXx

Cleaned and shaven, Loghain rested in a chair in Maric’s bedroom, watching impassively as Alistair raved at his father. Maric could feel those deep blue eyes watching him as Alistair spoke.

When Alistair paused for breath between the myriad ways he’d called Loghain a traitor, Maric spoke.

“I know what I’m doing. Alistair, you are a good man and a strong King. I’m not going to get in your way. I’m too old to rule. I’m too tired. You brought me back from the brink of death. Let me have this.” Let him have the one man he’d always loved above all others.

Eventually, Alistair agreed. Maric turned to Loghain, who still sat in the chair, bony arthritic hands folded over each other. Maric could see thin scars on his fingers. He had scars on his arms and chest from beatings. Ferelden hated him as much as they’d once loved him.

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to live,” said Maric. “Maybe only a couple of years. I want you to be there for them. Spend them with me.”

Loghain’s face was unreadable underneath all the lines. “I don’t deserve it.”

“This isn’t about what you deserve,” he said, so quiet he was almost whispering. “It’s about what I need.”

His hand was shaking on his cane. “I spent my missing years in prison too, Loghain. I need…I need you. If you think I’m doing this to redeem you, you’re wrong. It’s more selfish than that. And if you can possibly find solace in keeping this old man company…maybe you can begin to forgive yourself through that.”

“It’s not my own self-worth in question,” said Loghain. He was fragile, nearly broken. Eight years in that cell. Eight years. “How can I be with you after everything that’s happened?”

“It’s okay,” said Maric. “It’s okay, Loghain. I forgive you.”

Loghain cried for the second time that day. Maric could see that no one had told Loghain those words until now. This time, Maric cried with him.

It would take time, but they would be okay. It had taken them a long time to get there.


End file.
